


If Only For A Moment

by cosmickaiju



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angels are sexless, Fluff, but it's tiny and bittersweet anyways, crowley just doesn't feel super connected to their corporation, depersonalization a bit, the only sort of fluff you'll ever see me write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 02:38:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18540607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmickaiju/pseuds/cosmickaiju
Summary: And the heart is hard to translateIt talks in tongues and quiet sighsIn the grand deeds of great men and the smallest of gestures





	If Only For A Moment

They find the old polaroid, sepia-toned and edges yellowed with age, hidden deep within one of Aziraphale’s desk drawers. They’d been snooping while the angel had gone to fetch a bottle of wine, and there it lay, peeking out from between disorganized stacks of paperwork. They flip it over with nimble fingers and—  
  
It’s them. They find themself staring at the same corporation they’re still in now and it’s…. jarring. Disquieting, looking down at their own image, all their angles displayed flatly in front of them. They may be one for putting on a certain kind of appearance, but their corporation was just that. A vessel, something they inhabit, nothing much more, really.  
  
It’s then that Aziraphale returns, and they advance on him, without quite thinking.  
  
‘What is thisss, angel?’ they demand, thrusting the photo into his face.  
  
‘I believe they call it a candid, my dear.’ It seems he’s opting for ignorance, and it makes them bristle.  
  
‘You know what I mean Aziraphale!’  
  
‘I just…. bought it off someone I caught taking your photo one day. I know you don’t like your image spread about. And well, you looked… happy, so I kept it.’  
  
He clears his throat nervously, and it prompts them to look back at the photo between them. They don’t see anything different, though this time they do see him, not quite out of frame, feeding the ducks. They toss the photo back onto his desk, and let out a snort, as they try to ignore the feeling twisting in their chest they don’t quite understand.  
  
‘It’s just a corporation, angel.’


End file.
